Policeman's Ball
by RebelWade
Summary: Elliot and Olivia's annual attendance at the Policeman's Ball get's more intimate than planned.


**I told y'all I've been working on stuff!**

* * *

"You think the commissioner will have any new material this year?" Olivia asked in the cab on the way to the Policeman's Ball. It was an annual event each December in which Cragen would force Benson and Stabler to represent the 1-6. Every year Elliot and Olivia acted like the event was a burden so no one else would want to go, but they secretly enjoyed it. It's a rare occasion where they got to dress up, drink too much, and dance, forgetting their responsibilities and cases for one extravagant night.

Elliot chuckled. "Why did the book join the police force?"

"Because he wanted to go undercover!" they answered simultaneously.

"He's told the same joke for the past four years. Why break tradition now?" Elliot quipped.

"I guess you're right," Olivia said. "You got the goods?"

Elliot reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. "You think I'd let you down?" As they did each year before the ball, Elliot twisted the cap off the flask, which acted as a shot glass, and he poured an amber liquid into it. He handed her the shot, then held the flask up. "To the best partnership in New York City and another great year," he toasted.

"And one night where we get to forget all of it," Olivia added.

"Cheers to that!" They clinked their glasses and Olivia downed the shot while Elliot took a large swig from the flask; their first of what they hoped would be many drinks that night.

They arrived at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and were ushered to the coat room.

"You know, I'd take a cheaper venue if they'd be willing to use some of this budget for my salary," Olivia said quietly.

"Right?" Elliot said as he shrugged off his winter coat to reveal the fitted tux underneath. "Do they know Brad Pitt isn't going to be showing up to this thing?"

"I beg to differ, Mr. Three-Piece-Suit!" Olivia gawked as she took in Elliot's tux. "You clean up nice!"

He laughed under his breath as he stepped behind her to help her out of her own coat. "Between you and me, it's a cheap rental." She unbuttoned the coat and allowed Elliot to slide it down her bare arms, and to his surprise the open back kept being… _open_ as he moved the coat off her body. He swallowed hard at the sight of golden material framing her toned back until it reached a point at the bottom of her spine. He quietly cleared his throat and gathered himself together before she turned around, then handed the garment to the coat checker, refusing to let his eyes wander to the low dip between her breasts, which he could see in his periphery.

"Already spotted the bar from out here," he said, offering his elbow. "Shall we?"

She accepted the arm readily and slung hers through it. "Lead the way!"

People were already littering the dance floor as they got their first drinks and headed to the table. The orchestra played beautifully in the background.

"Finish these drinks, then dance?" Olivia suggested.

Elliot nodded. "Don't want you too sloppy on the dance floor."

Olivia hit his arm playfully. "As I recall, it was _you_ tripping over yourself on the way out last year!"

He took her drink and set it on the table, apparently unwilling to let her finish, then grabbed her hand. "C'mon," he said as he pulled her to the dance floor.

"Jeff Moore three o'clock," Olivia said as they swayed to the music. They were a polite distance apart, comfortable enough that the closeness wasn't awkward.

"Your three o'clock or my three o'clock?"

"My three o'clock."

Elliot looked to his left to see a polished man shaking hands with a few people around him. "I don't know why they insist on having politicians here. They're so fake."

Olivia shrugs. "I liked his campaign."

Elliot laughed. "You liked that he mooned the other team during his high school football game."

"Makes him relatable!" she defended with a chuckle, then her eyes flicked to something behind Elliot. "Oh god…"

"What?"

Before she could answer, a hand tapped Elliot's shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" A bulky, handsome man eyed his partner as they stopped dancing and pulled apart. "Good evening, Olivia. You look stunning."

"Thanks, Ben."

Elliot could see her fake smile a mile away. He took a purposely possessive step toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I do mind, actually."

Ben stepped back with his eyebrows raised. "Ah, I didn't know. My apologies." He faced Elliot. "You're a lucky man. You two enjoy the evening."

When he walked off, Elliot and Olivia resumed their dance. But Olivia noticed that he pulled her in a little closer.

It took a moment for Elliot to break the silence. "One-night-stand gone wrong?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. He always did this… made light of the things that really bothered him. He asked it as a joke because he really needed to know that she didn't, in fact, have a one-night-stand. She blew out a breath as she decided to tell him the truth instead of blowing him off. "No," she said. "He's tried, but…" But her faith and trust in men dwindled more and more every year. Her desire to be with anyone but her partner sank deeper and deeper into nothing every time she was with him. Obviously she couldn't be _that_ honest. "No," she repeated quietly.

He nodded, pulled her in even closer so their bodies were touching. "Okay," he said. They spun about one-eighty degrees in a slow circle before he spoke again. "He's right, you know." Elliot's voice was low as it vibrated in her ear. "You do look stunning tonight."

She smiled and relaxed more into his arms, her head coming to lean into his jaw as they swayed. And suddenly something shifted. The atmosphere, the mood, the air. Whatever it was, it was sudden and intense. They'd shared moments like that before—when they'd acknowledge their _thing_ without really acknowledging it and the moment would turn into something else. But it never happened while they were in each other's arms, moving, swaying, touching.

She dropped the hand that was in his and moved it to his chest between them, leaving Elliot's hand to cover hers in that spot. He lowered his head just slightly, breathing out into her hair as he leaned his head more into hers.

Olivia told herself to take long, even breaths, feeling his every touch, every move. Their hands were over his heart and his other snaked further around her back, slowly, his fingers splayed as they felt her curves. He landed at the curve just above her ass where he met skin and his fingers curled, his nails scratching her skin lightly. She closed her eyes, breathing in as she squared her body to be more aligned with his and slid her hand in the same splayed fashion up his chest and to his neck. Her mouth opened so she could gather more air into her lungs, her lips just an inch away from the flesh of his throat. She swallowed, chastising herself for allowing the thoughts. But when she took one step closer to him, closing the space between them, her hip met an erection.

She shuddered, and the shaky breath expelled into his ear. She'd dreamed of it, thought of it, and it shook her to her core to finally feel it against her. It was to her extreme disappointment that he stepped back, just barely.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, something like shame or embarrassment evident in his voice.

Olivia shook her head. "Don't be," she whispered back. She was in the fog of their moment and wasn't thinking clearly when she said it. "Me too." She wished he could feel how much.

It was his shaky breath in her ear this time as he pulled her tightly into himself, this time making sure that she was centered so his member would hit her where he'd always dreamed it would, and they sighed into the hold. She could feel his lips grazing her neck and she was intoxicated, drunk with need, wet with want.

"Liv…" Elliot croaked. "I—"

It was when the orchestra stopped playing and the audience pattered their applause that Olivia opened her eyes and came to her senses.

He felt her stiffen in his arms and he held on tighter. "No." He wasn't sure what to say after that, but he needed her to know that he was right there with her. It was just them. No one else. And it was okay. He wanted this. And now he knew for a fact that she did too. She said it… That's what she meant when she said 'me too', right?

He felt her push at his chest, but he pulled her back in. "Liv, don't." Don't run. Not again.

But she pushed harder the next time, breaking away, and headed for the door.

* * *

He found her on a bench outside the museum, her image picturesque—deep golden gown and wavy hair complementing the extravagant and iconic building. He almost hated to approach her, to ruin such a beautiful sight.

But he sat. And judging by the lack of reaction, she was expecting it.

Neither of them spoke. They knew they both needed time to gather their thoughts, gather the last twelve years of thoughts.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Elliot finally asked.

Olivia's head popped up at the question. _That_ she wasn't expecting.

She turned away, taking in her surroundings. A loop around the museum would put them in the park, then it was about a thirty-minute walk to her apartment from there.

Elliot watched as she contemplated his suggestion. When she turned back to him, he was met with a defeated expression.

"Can you just… walk me home?"

Home. Away from him. Away from whatever just happened. But there would be at least thirty minutes alone before they got there. He nodded. "Sure."

He counted the minutes he was wasting as he tried to figure out what to say. They were past the museum now, past the Hamilton monument. When they reached the Great Lawn, he knew he had to just suck it up. They were already half way across the park and hadn't said a word. Were they seriously just going to not talk about this? Brush it under the rug like they did everything? Technically, they did let the moment pass. They really could just ignore this like everything else and go to work tomorrow acting like it didn't happen.

But it did. And this was different. It wasn't just an assumption, she _felt_ his need for her and she said—

"El, stop." Her voice was calm and collected, her eyes on the grass in front of her.

"You need to stop?" he asked.

"No, idiot. Stop driving yourself crazy. It's okay."

Were they talking about it now? He was only 60% sure.

"We don't need to talk about it." He could barely hear her between the wind and the softness of her voice.

"We don't need to, or you don't want to?" he asked. "Because I would argue that we've _needed_ to talk about it for a long time."

She stopped in her tracks, looked at him slack-jawed. "Since when do we…" she shook her head and sighed. "We don't… we don't do this, Elliot. We don't mention it or talk about it. We move on, forget anything happened." She started forward again, her steps a little faster this time. "Can we just do that? Move past it?"

He was silent again as his brain worked in paces faster than the steps he was taking to keep up with her. Didn't she realize that mentioning the fact that she didn't want to mention it was just as vulnerable as mentioning it outright?

"This is different," He finally said as they found the edge of the park.

"Different from what?" Olivia asked as though she'd forgotten what they were talking about. It was clear she wanted to move on from the conversation but Elliot wasn't having it. But they were coming up on her apartment building and he only had so much time to get it out of her.

"Different from every other time something like this has happened."

Jesus, how she walked so quickly in heels was beyond him. She was approaching her stoop when she responded. "I don't know what you're talking about, Elliot."

" _Bull shit!"_

She whipped around at the shouted profanity. He was done with her crap. Done with the lies, the hiding.

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, Olivia! And you just reassured me during that dance that I was not the only one… _feeling_ things. So don't fucking lie to me."

Her cheeks flushed as she thought through ways to get out of this.

He stepped up to her, grabbed her arm almost forcefully. "Do you know how many women I get hard for just by standing there with them? Dancing? One… Just one."

He was eye-level with her, unable to predict her next move. He saw desire, determination, sadness, and he didn't know how to reconcile them all.

Finally, she nodded slowly, sadly. "And she's not your wife."

She yanked her arm away and he followed her as she entered her building and started up the stairs. "Go home, Elliot," she said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"What did you mean when we were dancing?" He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to a stop in the stairwell.

She sighed, rolled her eyes and turned to face him. "What did I mean by what?"

He stepped forward, cornering her up against cement. "I apologized for being… _aroused_ … and you said 'me too.'"

After the widening of her eyes she looked down, tried to find the ground, but Elliot's presence was overwhelming her. "I shouldn't have—"

He stepped closer, crowding her further into the corner of the stairwell. "Don't bullshit me again, Liv."

He could sense that she was losing her fight when his hands landed on her waist. She wouldn't look at him, but she allowed him into her space. "You were aroused too," he said. "You want me just as much as I want you." He tilted her chin up with his finger, but she veered her eyes away from him. "Tell me," he begged.

"No."

"Olivia, look at me."

She shook her head. "No," she repeated.

"Why?" he asked. "Because you'll want to kiss me if you do?"

She shut her eyes and pushed at his chest to get him to step back, but she stayed leaning against the wall and finally met his glare now that he was at a safe distance.

"Yes," she whispered. "But I won't. It's too late."

His head jolted a bit. "Too late? When would it have been… on time?"

She stared at him hard, her eyes filled with sadness. "Before you got her pregnant."

And just like that, every piece of the carefully constructed glass wall they built between them to separate their partnership from their unspoken love and dependence crashed into thousands of tiny, dangerous shards. Elliot stood with wide eyes and hammering heart as his brain caught up with the fact that she was heading up the stairs again.

He caught the door to her apartment before it could close and he shut it behind him as he watched her. She placed her handbag on the table and leaned against the back of a chair, her head hanging low.

"When, Liv?"

Olivia sighed. "Go home, Elliot."

"No. Tell me when you expected something to happen. When I was grieving the loss of my family?" He walked up behind her, his voice quietly seething. "When you left for Computer Crimes? Or when you were in Oregon? Tell me when exactly I was supposed to make a move."

She turned around slowly. Even in her despondent state, she was so beautiful. She finally looked up and made eye contact. "I needed you that night," she said, and was met with furrowed brows. "After Malcom Royce killed his family. I knew you needed to go home and see your kids, but I thought… I _hoped_ …" She stopped, and her expression changed, realizing she was saying too much. With a shake of her head she turned and headed for her bedroom. "Forget it."

"Liv, stop." Elliot's arm swung around her waist and gently pulled her to a stop. She didn't fight it. In fact, he thinks she sighed into it. Both hands now landed on either side of her waist from behind. He leaned his forehead against the back of her head. "I wanted you," he said. "That night, I was…" he stopped, sighed, wondering if he should actually say it. In the end, he decided she needed to know. "I was thinking about _you,_ Olivia. But I was never sure."

He backed up and shook his head. "Actually, no, that's not true." He turned her around to face him, saw that her eyes were watery, then his eyes dropped to the scar on her neck. He traced it with his thumb. "There _was_ a time I was sure. But I was too scared then." Her eyes closed as he leaned in, tilting her chin back so he could kiss her in that spot—the scar that brought back such a vivid memory of blood spilling from her fingers on the floor; the scar that caused a whirlwind of fights and the temporary loss of their partnership; the scar that left a thousand more scars more painful than itself. Her breathing labored as his lips spent more time there than he planned. "But when you came back from Oregon things were so strained between us," he said when he lifted his head again. "I thought you were over me. I thought you were with… _him._ "

"I wasn't," she whispered. "With him… or over you."

His stare matched hers in intensity. "And now?" he asked as he took one more half-step, closing any space between them. His fingers grazed her cheek as they made their way to her hair. "Are you over me now?"

"I…" Her eyes closed. She whispered, "It doesn't matter now."

Before she could lower her head, Elliot captured her lips with his, earning a startled gasp from Olivia. He held his lips to her for a few seconds before pulling back. He waited to gauge her reaction, watching as her breathing increased. She kept her eyes shut, and he knew she was holding back.

"Because I'll never be over you, Olivia."

She shook her head. "Goddam it," she whispered right before she kissed him hard, passionately, her moan stifled as his tongue brushed over hers. Before she knew it, she was undoing the buttons of his tux and loosening his tie, his hands roamed over the skin of her back sent goosebumps all over her body. He dipped down to kiss and suck her neck. She sighed as he slipped a strap off her shoulder and kissed her there, moving further down as he continued to kiss her body.

She opened her eyes and pushed him back suddenly, taking a few steps away from him. Her breathing was labored and she slipped the strap of her dress back to her shoulder before bringing her hand to her lips. Her eyes closed tightly.

"Liv…" He took a step toward her but she held a palm up, telling him to stop.

She took a huge breath, then looked at him. "Whether we wanted each other that night or not, El, you chose her. And I don't fault you for that. It's just… it's where we are. And that's okay."

"What if it's not okay with me?"

Olivia stared sadly and shrugged. "That's something you have to figure out yourself."

He walked toward her again. "I want you, Olivia."

She placed her hand on his chest to stop him from getting too close. "And you have me," she said. "As your partner… your best friend… But I'm not going to be your affair, Elliot. And I'm definitely not going to be your secret."

He huffed with a smile, looked past her at the door right by them. "I hate to break it to you, Liv, but you've been my secret for twelve years."

She couldn't help but to smile at the admission, and she knew she needed to get him out of there before she slipped up again. She reached back and opened the door. "Goodnight, El. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded and used every bit of energy and strength he could muster up to walk away rather than swing the door shut and press her up against it. He stepped forward. "Tell me you know, Liv. I think you've known for a while, but, just tell me you—"

"I do," she said, careful to keep her hands off him right now. "I know. Sometimes… sometimes it's all I know."

His head bobbed lightly in agreement as he stared for another few moments, capturing her image one last time tonight. "Okay," he finally said. "Night, Liv."

He walked away from her, hoping it would be the last time he would ever have to do so, and he prepared himself for a long-overdue conversation at home.


End file.
